


mother knows best (it's all in the test)

by sarcastic_fina



Series: Wintershock - Firsts Challenge [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Protectiveness, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4898266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last four boyfriends Darcy's had, her mother has scared off. Bucky's not worried, but maybe he should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mother knows best (it's all in the test)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt** : First time meeting parents/family [[MCU Wintershock](http://mcuwintershock.tumblr.com/) [Firsts Challenge](http://mcuwintershock.tumblr.com/post/128518622478/wintershock-challenge)]
> 
>  **Faceclaim** : [Charlotte](http://i612.photobucket.com/albums/tt209/sarcasticfina/charlotte_zps6czyzvwg.png) [Julia Ormond]
> 
>  **Polyvore** : Darcy [[1](http://www.polyvore.com/darcy_oneshot_11/set?id=177968042)] | Charlotte [[1](http://www.polyvore.com/charlotte_chandler/set?id=177886789)] [[2](http://www.polyvore.com/charlotte/set?id=177966900)]

“I won’t blame you if you want to duck out now. Hide in Steve’s apartment or something... I mean, word might spread and Clint will call your manhood into question, but you can always work it out in the sparring room.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. He’s calmly sitting in the armchair, legs crossed at the ankle and perched on the coffee table. Unlike her, he’s not too worried about meeting her mom. He’s brought it up a few times, but she’s always been hesitant to set something up. She and her mother are close; they Skype every weekend and send emails every few days. Darcy loves both her parents, but she seems especially fond of her mother. Which makes it even more surprised that she’s been pacing for the last hour like she thinks the end of the world is on the horizon. 

“’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

“Okay. But, just so we’re clear, I gave you an out.” 

Closing the book he has in his lap, he raises an eyebrow. “Why’re you so worried?” 

“Worried? I’m not worried!” 

He snorts. 

“What? I’m  _not_. I’m just...” She blows out a heavy breath and then tips her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Nobody ever stays after they meet her,” she blurts out.

He frowns. “What d’you mean?” 

“I  _mean_... of the serious boyfriends I’ve had in the past, once they meet my mom, something just kind of... clicks. And suddenly they’re not ready for a relationship or we don’t have the same  _goals_ or whatever other textbook excuse you can think of for dropping a relationship abruptly. They just... They exit stage left.” 

Tossing his book aside, Bucky stands from his seat and walks toward her. She’s wringing her hands and purposely avoiding his eyes, and he can practically feel the nervous energy coming off her. Catching her by her waist, he pulls her in until they’re chest to chest. 

“Darce?”

She hums, her gaze still down. 

“I said I’m not going anywhere... and I meant it.” He rubs a hand over her back soothingly. “I don’t know why the other guys left. They’re idiots, but I’m not really complaining about that since if any of ‘em stayed, I wouldn’t be here.” He drops his forehead to hers and sways them side to side in a mimicry of dancing.

She sighs, loosens up and tucks her arms around him. “She’s just... I don’t know, protective, and a little intense.” 

He half-grins, kissing her cheek. “Thought I had the market cornered on both.” 

Snorting a laugh, she ducks her head to his shoulder. “If she does though... If you get scared off... Don’t-- Don’t  _lie_  about it. Don’t pretend everything’s fine for a few weeks or something. Because that’s the worst. That desperately clinging to hope thing. I hate that. Don’t make me do that.”

He hugs her a little tighter, drops a kiss to her neck, and says, “You keep this up, ‘m gonna start wondering why you’re so sure I’d walk away. We got some things we need to work on?” 

“No.  _Well_ , I mean, doesn’t every couple? But this is mostly me. Insecure!Darcy mostly doesn’t come out to play. This is just one of those things. One boyfriend, I can handle. Two, I might start to wonder. But four? Four is a pattern. A very worrisome pattern. The kind of pattern that leads to celibacy and a horde of cats.” 

He muffles a laugh in her hair.

Darcy sighs. “I know you’re laughing at me.” 

“Not at you... Maybe a  _little_  at you.” 

She socks him in the ribs and he playfully pretends it hurts. 

But then there’s a knock at the door and her lighthearted attitude flees. She makes a strangled noise in her throat and then pulls back. “I’m rethinking this. I should’ve talked strategy with Steve.” 

“You kiddin’? Steve’s terrible with women.”

“Mom’s love him,” she argues. “There’s Facebook groups that prove it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not going into battle. She’s only here tonight, right? She’s got a flight back in the morning.” 

“Yeah, it’s a drive-by visit. Habit of her job.” With a sigh, she unties her arms from around him and starts toward the door. “Maybe just don’t spend any time alone with her... ever.” 

He shakes his head, still a little amused, and waves at her to open the door already. 

Darcy takes a deep breath, plasters on an only-kind-of forced smile and then pulls the door open. “ _Mom!_ Hey!” she greets, shifting her feet. 

“Darcy! Oh, it’s so good to  _see_ you, my darling!” Charlotte Chandler practically leaps through the door to hug her daughter.

“Mom, we Skype once a week,” Darcy laughs, but hugs her back just as warmly. 

“Oh, tosh! Skype doesn’t count. You can’t hug through Skype.” With that, Charlotte seems to grip her a little tighter and give her an affectionate shake. It’s a few seconds before she lets go and then puts her hands on Darcy’s shoulder to make her take a step back. “Now, let me get a good look at you. Oh, you look so lovely. Happy too. What did I tell you? New York looks much better on you than that stuffy London.” 

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Mom, you grew up in London.” 

“Yes, which means I know exactly how rubbish it is.” 

“London was awesome,” she defends. “Except for the whole driving on the other side of the road thing. Still can’t say I mastered that.” 

“Not sure you mastered driving on the right side yet either,” Bucky mutters jokingly. 

“ _Hey!”_

He grins at her, all handsome charm, and she waves a dismissive hand back at him before returning her attention to her mother. 

Charlotte’s eyebrows are raised as she looks between them expectantly. “And who is this?” she asks. 

“Oh. Uh...” Darcy takes a step back. “Mom, this is Bucky. If I had to fill out paperwork asking who my significant other was, I’d scribble some form of his name in there.” She frowns momentarily. “Actually,  _have_ I done that? Bruce made me fill out paperwork last month...” 

“You did. I can officially go into your hospital room if you get blown up…  _again_.”

“Right, and not infiltrate from the air vents...” Darcy trails off, eyes narrowed, and then shrugs. “Cool.” 

With an affectionately exasperated sigh, Bucky crosses the space between them and holds a hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Chandler. Darcy’s told me only good things.” 

Charlotte’s lips pinch, but she gives his hand a good, hard shake. “Isn’t that interesting, since she hasn’t mentioned you at all.” She turns a look on Darcy that causes her to let out an awkward laugh. 

“Yeah, well, things are super hectic, and talking about boys goes against the Bechdel test.” 

“ _Darcy Anne_...” 

“Okay, so I probably should’ve mentioned him.” Her shoulders sag. “It’s complicated.” 

“What’s complicated? You have a boyfriend, you tell your mother.” She waves a hand. “See?  _Easy_.” 

“Right, I’ll take that under advisement.  _Anyway_ , he’s here, you’re here, so...” She waves her hand with forced excitement. “ _Ta da_.”

Charlotte hums, then turns her eyes on Bucky and looks him up and down. “So. You work for Stark too then? In the labs?” 

He grimaces. “Not... exactly. I occasionally work  _with_ Stark, when it’s needed, but mostly I work elsewhere.” 

“That was a careful non-answer.” Charlotte stands a little straighter. “Where does this ‘elsewhere’ work happen then?” 

“ _Mom_. Maybe we can skip the interrogation...?” Darcy reaches past her for her luggage and wheels it in. “I made reservations for dinner. And then Tony cancelled them and made reservations somewhere more expensive.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, we’re going to get really expensive food that I hope tastes good. But I thought you might want to rest first; it was a long flight.” 

“Yes, it was. I wouldn’t mind lying down for a bit, and taking a shower before we go out.” Charlotte turns a smile on her daughter. “You have a guest room?” 

“Yes! It’s--” Her phone blares then, with a tell-tale ringtone, and she deflates, crossing toward the kitchen island to grab it up.

“You talk to Jane, I’ll show your mom the guest room,” Bucky says, reaching for the handle on the luggage. 

Darcy bites her lip, but nods hesitantly. 

He grins at her, winks as he walks past, and then makes his way down the hall. Charlotte follows after him, but slower, since she’s admiring the framed pictures on the wall. He stops outside of the guest room door, tucks the luggage inside, and waits, watching her. 

Her expression is curious, one eyebrow raised, and her lips folded as she takes in each detail of the photo she’s looking at and then pivots to take in the one opposite to it on the wall across. “Is it part of a collection?” she wonders, looking between them. 

He crosses his arms loosely over his chest. “Something like that...” 

“I just noticed the frames are the same.” She points between them and squints. “And it looks as though they were taken in the same places but at different times...” 

“Darcy says you’re an art dealer?” 

Her mouth ticks up at the corner. “Something like that.” 

He snorts a laugh and nods. “One’s on the right were taken in Brooklyn back in the 30′s and 40′s; nostalgic pieces, trying to capture the neighborhood.”

“Nostalgia,” she murmurs. “During the depression.” 

“One thing they couldn’t ration. You’re starving or you’re in the war, at least they couldn’t take your memories.” 

“Ah, but nostalgia can hurt as much as it might help. If you hold on to the past too tightly, you lose hope for the present.” 

“That’s what the other pictures are for.” He walks down the hall to meet her and points to the left side. “These were taken in the last year. Same places, same neighborhood, but new buildings, new everything. Neither’s better or worse, just a reflection of the other.” 

“Who’s the art dealer now?” she jokes. 

He half-grins. “Not a dealer, just proud of my work.” 

She doesn’t look surprised, exactly, more like she’d expected it but wasn’t sure he’d admit it. “You’re not bad.”

“My ma used to say that. ‘Bout as close to approval as she got.” He rocks back on his heels and then turns, motioning a hand behind him. “Guest room’s all set up. Don’t use it too often, so if it’s stuffy and you want some fresh air, let me know. Window jams a bit, can be hard to get open.” 

Charlotte walks past him toward the room and looks back over her shoulder. “Is that your subtle way of informing me you’re living with my daughter?” she wonders, amused. 

“Not tryin’ to be subtle.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to meet you a while back, but Darcy’s got her reservations.” 

She hums, shrugging off her blazer to lay over a chair. “Ah. Because she believes I scared off her previous boyfriends?” 

Bucky stares at her squarely. “Did you?” 

An eyebrow arches. “Would you complain if I had?” 

“No,” he admits. “Like I told her, if you hadn’t, I might not be here.” 

“I doubt that.” She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and removes her high heels, lining them up perfectly off to the side and rubbing a hand over one stocking-clad foot. “I might have sped up the process, but if they wanted to stay, they would have.” She shrugs delicately and reaches for the Hermès scarf she’s wearing, drawing it from her neck. “If a man is going to run when his girlfriend’s mother asks a few questions, then was he worth hanging onto in the first place?” 

He cocks his head, leans in the doorway of the room. “She thinks you spooked ‘em.” 

“And what do  _you_ think?” Calmly, she rolls her scarf up and lays it on the bedside table. 

“I don’t know you enough yet to judge.”  

Everything about Charlotte Chandler is elegant and precise. The makeup she wears, the perfume she dabs on her neck and wrists, her manicured nails and carefully selected wardrobe. It’s an interesting thing to see when he’s used to Darcy’s mismatched everything. Charlotte’s emotions are regulated, often muted, whereas Darcy is loud and anxious and never hides anything she feels. Where Darcy is warm and colorful, Charlotte could be seen as cold and patterned. But he witnessed the genuine joy she displayed when she saw her daughter, the sincere affection as she hugged her, the protective wariness that shrouded her eyes as she took him in. 

Bucky can’t remember a time when he didn’t look at people and search for intent. Even before the war, he was careful. Times were tough and Steve was always hankering for a fight. He had to be careful about who he got close to, who he let get close, and so he was. It was him and Stevie against the world, and his family, Sarah, Steve’s mom, they were the only people he remembers taking at their word. Over the last couple years, getting his head on right and working through what happened to him with HYDRA, he’s been warier than ever. It took him a long time to trust the team, to consider himself part of their little avenging crusade, to expect that they’d have his back. And even now, part of him still expects deception. 

He wonders what Charlotte went through that she’s the same. Not to his level. Few people are. But she looks at people like she knows they’re hiding something. Maybe because she herself is hiding something, or everything. According to Darcy, her mother travels a lot, always has, it was one of the reasons her marriage to Mathias Lewis never worked out. They divorced when Darcy was eight, and she visited him often, especially when her mom went on extended business trips. 

She was always close to Darcy, though. Took an active role in her life, never missed any of Darcy’s choir recitals, field hockey games, or theater plays. She was there for her high school and college graduations, taped every big moment in her life, took pride in her daughter’s every triumph. He remembers Darcy telling him about being fourteen and getting dumped by her first boyfriend, how her mom was in Belgrade for work but sat on the phone with her for two hours to get her through it. Everything about her relationship with her daughter is in direct contrast with the image she portrays, which could, of course, lead people to another conclusion. But not him. 

“Darcy said you were in Milan for work... popular place for art.” 

She hums. “I think you would have liked the  _Ieri Oggi Milano_. Forty different photographers contributed. It was a very urban exhibition. You might like the post-war pictures, rubble and remains of factories and suburbs.”

His mouth lifts slowly. “Imagine I would.” 

“You should go sometime. Milan is beautiful.”

“Have to see how Darcy’s schedule clears up. She’s been talking about going on vacation, might be the right time.” 

Charlotte’s chin lifts thoughtfully. “I forgot to ask how long you two have been together.” 

“A while.” He stares at her, watches the almost imperceptible shift of muscle along her cheek. “Only came back to New York two years ago. Met Darcy early on, but we didn’t get together until a little over a year ago.”

“So soon,” she murmurs with a subtle pinch of her lips. 

He knows she knows, and it makes him pause a moment. He turns his gaze down the hall to see Darcy rolling her eyes, still nodding along to something Jane’s telling her. When he looks back, Charlotte is standing. She’s a beautiful woman. Fair skin like Darcy, same hair, similar figure, but green eyes and perfect teeth where Darcy’s are blue and her teeth have a slight indent. Charlotte is a few inches taller, made more noticeable by how clean and straight her posture is. Darcy’s a sloucher, due in part to all the time she spends in front of a computer screen. 

“There’s an en suite,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing to a door beside the closet. “Stocked with towels, new toothbrush, anything you need. Reservation’s for eight.” 

“Wonderful. Thank you.” She inclines her head, her eyes directly aligned with his. He wonders if it’s to tell him she’s not afraid of him or to establish her own dominance, maybe a bit of both. “Er... Bucky, was it?” 

“Bucky, or James. Whatever you prefer.” 

“James then.” She nods. “I will see you closer to dinner. I’m quite tired from the flight.” 

“Sure.” He reaches for the handle on the door and pulls on it. “Have a good nap.” 

“Thank you.” 

She’s removing her earrings and offers a faint smile to him as he closes the door. 

He walks down the hall to find Darcy running a frustrated hand through her hair. “--not really a good time for me to come in. Can’t you have one of the other-- They’re not in  _Klingon_ , Jane. Just shorthand. The same shorthand I’ve used for six years now,” she sighs. “Well, I told you I could make up a chart so you and the white coats could decipher what it meant but you shot me down...” She nods. “I know, but I have reservations at...  _No_ , because unlike some people, I like to wear adult clothes and do my hair before I go out in public. Not smell like three-day old Poptarts and the sweat of success and science...” She shakes her head and then glances at the clock on the wall. “I can be there by one, but I’m leaving at five-thirty. That’s the best I can do.” She rolls her eyes, nodding. “Well, genius is going to have to wait for this lady. I haven’t seen my mom in over a year and Skype doesn’t let you hug, Janey. Or share food together. So you’re just going to have to suck it up... All right... Okay... I’ll see you soon. Yeah... Bye... Yes, fine, I’ll pick it up. What about Bruce? What’s he want? Okay... Got it... I’m hanging up now... Mmhmm...” She growls irritably. “Jane! I’m on my way. Bye!” 

Bucky watches, amused as she hangs up her phone and tosses it toward the couch, frowning when it bounces off and lands face down on the floor. 

“Traitor,” she mumbles under her breath. 

“Going in to work?” 

“Yeah. Just for a little while though. I figure mom will probably sleep through it anyway. Her flight was like 22 hours long.” She shrugs, and starts digging around for her bag. 

“It’s by the couch,” he tells her, nodding his chin toward it. “Don’t forget your iPod either, you left it in the dock last time.” And sent him exactly sixteen texts before he broke down, went home to pick it up, and delivered it to her in Jane’s lab. 

“Right.” She grabs up her oversized tote and starts fiddling through it to make sure she has everything. 

“It’s cold.” Fall is making itself known and there’s a chill in the air. He walks to the front closet to dig out her favorite red jacket; the one she keeps her knitted gloves and scarf in. “And it might rain, so--”

“Take my umbrella.” She grins at him, hauling her bag with her as she grabs her iPod from the dock and meets him by the closet. “You’re a worry-wart, you know that, right?” 

“Sound like Steve,” he mutters, holding her jacket up. 

She turns and slides her arms through, reaching back to pull her hair up and free while he settles the fabric over her shoulders. He pulls the scarf loose from her pocket as she turns to face him and loops it behind her neck. While she busies herself pulling on her gloves, he buttons the coat and then reaches down for her bag by her feet. 

“Done by five-thirty?”

“Home by six.” She leans up to pop a kiss on his cheek. “If mom wakes up...” 

He grins. “You want me to take cover and hide?” 

Her nose scrunches up cutely. “She just... She has a way of interrogating people. She doesn’t do it on purpose, but she can come off a little...” 

“Intense.” He nods. “You mentioned.” 

Sighing, she draws the strap of her bag over her shoulder, iPod held in her free hand, thumb playing with the cord of her headphones. “You know, now that I think about it, she’s kind of like you that way.” 

“Me? Intense.” He shakes his head, brows raised. “I’m shocked at this accusation.” 

Darcy snorts. “Shuddup.” She socks his shoulder lightly. “Why don’t you invite Steve or Sam over or something? You guys can watch sports or talk about the old days like the ninety year olds you are.” 

“Uh-huh.” He catches her by the hips and pulls her in for a kiss goodbye. “Don’t get blown up.” 

“Jeez, it happens twice and you never let me live it down. Do I tell  _you_ not to get shot at when you go on missions?” 

“Yeah, every time.” He nods. “Once, you threatened to take over the gun industry and forcibly remodel them so they shoot confetti. Because parties make people happy.” 

Darcy backs up toward the door and points at him. “You can’t hold drunk-talk against me. I also threatened to redecorate the apartment in Hello Kitty themed  _everything_.” 

“Yeah, you also ordered a Hello Kitty couch online that we spent two hours trying to cancel.” 

“That was a cute couch and I maintain that it looked very comfortable.” She grins as she walks out the door. Blowing him a kiss, she calls back, “Love you, see you tonight!” 

He’s grinning as the door closes and he’s left in their quiet apartment, shaking his head. 

He doesn’t call Steve. He does, however, text Natasha asking for a favor. She ignores him for five minutes, because she always does when it’s non-threatening. 

When she does text back, it’s one word: 

\-- _Name?_

\-- _Charlotte Chandler, London born, 1965, one daughter, previously married to Mathias Lewis, divorced 1994, cover job: art dealer_

_\--Suspect?_

_\--International spy_

_\--Are your winter senses tingling?_

_\--You’re not as funny as you think you are_

_\--I’m funnier_

He rolls his eyes. 

_\--Can you get me something on her?_

_\--If there’s something to get._

_\--There is._

_\--Darcy know you’re vetting her mom?_

_\--She will when she needs to._

_\--Careful, Barnes. You don’t want to do something you can’t undo._

_\--Just find what you can, all right?_

_\--Aye, aye, Sargent._

He scoffs, then tosses his phone aside. Taking a seat on his and Darcy’s non Hello Kitty themed couch, he decides to distract himself with TV for a while. When he gets bored with that, he pulls out a book he’s been slowly working his way through and spends a good hour trying to distract himself. He tries not to bug Natasha for details, he knows she’ll get back to him as soon as he needs to know something, but he doesn’t like feeling like he’s missing something. 

Darcy never mentioned that her mother had any kind of training; as far as she was concerned, Charlotte was just a dedicated mother who had to travel a lot for work. Art dealing was a good cover; she could, arguably, spend her time jet setting all over, if she was in high enough demand and had the background to back up her expertise. Darcy had grown up comfortable. Not Stark-comfortable, but well enough that her mother had to have been making a substantial living. Her father a little less so, and Bucky can’t help but wonder if it’s because Darcy spent so much time with her dad that she didn’t pick up a lot of her mother’s mannerisms and habits. Where Charlotte keeps herself closed off, Darcy is an open book, friendly and inviting to everyone she meets, formerly brainwashed assassins included. Of course, if her mother was a spy, or something along those lines, that could also explain why she wasn’t all that put off by Bucky. She was used to people that were a little more shady. Then again, her mother seemed to drop the act when Darcy was in front of her...

He sighs, rubbing a hand back through his hair in frustration. Part of him is desperately hoping he’s wrong; he’s reading her wrong. That maybe Darcy’s worry about her mom scaring him off is manifesting in another way. But another part of him wants to be proven right, wants to know that his suspicions aren’t baseless. Even if that means opening a whole new can of worms…

His phone buzzes on the arm of the chair and he turns to it, grabs it up and swipes his phone screen with his thumb to unlock it. 

Natasha sent him a succession of texts, which he knows from experience is never a good sign.

Charlotte Catherine Chandler: Born January 4, 1964, London, United Kingdom. | Attended: University of Cambridge, 1981-1985; Harvard University, 1985-1990. Masters in Criminology, Masters in Regional Studies (Russia, Eastern Europe, and Central Asia), PhD in History of Art and Architecture. | Alias: Charlotte Lewis | Spouse(s): Mathias Lewis (m. May 4, 1986, d. July 3, 1994); Henri DuPose (m. May 18, 1998, w. June 24, 1998). Significant Other(s): Cynthia Hernandez (1995–1998; 1999 - Present) | Dual citizenship granted. | Current Location: Washington, DC, USA. | Employment: Chandler Art Exchange and History (Self-Employed, Art Dealer), member of Art Dealers Association of America (ADAA) since 1992. [ _7 pictures attached_ ]

Mathias Tomas Ludvig: Born December 21, 1961, Ludwigsburg, Germany. | Attended: Ludwigsburg University of Education, 1979-1985; University of Cambridge, 1985-1986 ( _Erasmus_  exchange student); Harvard University 1986-1990. Degree in Linguistics, Masters in Celtic Medieval Languages and Literatures, PhD in Modern and Medieval Languages. | Name change: Mathias Ludvig to Mathias Lewis (November 8, 1985). Alias: Matt Lewis. | Spouse(s): Charlotte Chandler (m. May 4, 1986, d. July 3, 1994); Emily Dartmoor (m. September 3, 2001). | American Citizenship granted. | Current Location: Willowdale, Virginia, USA. | Employment: Tenured professor at Culver University, Language Department. [ _4 pictures attached_ ]

Darcy Anne Lewis: Born June 13, 1986 in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA. Attended: Harvard University, 2004-2008; Culver University, 2008-2017. Degree in Linguistics, Masters in European Languages, Minor in American History, Masters in Political Science (current PhD student). | No Aliases Found | Spouse(s): None found. Significant Other(s): James Buchanan Barnes (June 3, 2016 - Present). | American citizen. | Current Location: New York City, NY, USA. | Employment: Senior Staff Assistant to Jane Foster (PhD), Bruce Banner (PhD), Tony Stark (PhD) under Stark Industries, located at Avengers Tower.  [ _5 pictures attached_ ]

 _Information search, Charlotte Chandler_ …  

Aliases: Charlie Wright; Cheryl Mathias; Elizabeth Grant; Catherine Louis […] (46 other aliases found). [ _51 pictures attached_ ]

Employment Records, 3 found: International Criminal Police Organization (INTERPOL); Central Intelligence Agency (CIA); Chandler Art Exchange and History [ _26 pictures attached_ ]

Criminal Activity: suspect in possible murder of husband Henri DuPose; charged dropped

Status: Active. Spy and linguistics expert; highly trained; extremely intelligent; martial arts and deception training [ _12 pictures attached_ ]

Weaknesses: Darcy A. Lewis (daughter) [note: Lewis has strong ties to American Avengers team. Heavily protected on site; off-site apartment, medium protection. Significant relationship to James Buchanan Barnes, aka The Winter Soldier, highly trained,  _Do Not Approach order active_ ]; Cynthia Hernandez (significant other), located in Sesto San Giovanni, Milan, Italy [note: highly trained former CIA agent,  _Approach with Caution_ ]; Mathias Lewis (ex-husband), language expert, no known defensive training, low risk opponent.

“Should I be flattered?”

He doesn’t flinch, but he does feel every muscle from the neck down tense. His eyes dart to the right; he can feel her presence now, just behind him. “Not really. I vet everybody.” He lays his phone aside and waits, watches as she carefully and calmly circles the couch, taking a seat on the arm chair. She has a gun, held comfortably in her hand, finger against the trigger, but not tense, just a precaution then. She crosses her legs delicately, still poised and at ease. Her hair is still a little damp from her earlier shower, but the tightness around her eyes says she hasn’t slept.

He watches her, lips pursed, scans her face for any signs that she’s the least bit afraid. Either she’s very good at hiding it, or she’s not concerned.

“Darcy know?” he wonders, though he’s pretty sure of the answer.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she doesn’t.”

“So you lied to her for thirty-odd years…” He raises an eyebrow.

“Are you judging me right now?” She scoffs. “A man with  _your_ record thinks it offensive that I kept a secret from my daughter that likely saved her life.”

“Saved it how? If anything ever happened to her because of you—”

“Nothing did,” she interrupts, her eyes flashing. “And let’s not pretend that your being in close proximity to her makes her any more safe.” She taps a finger against the gun. “I have spent Darcy’s  _entire_ life making sure that she was as safe and loved as she could be. My work has always been about keeping this world safe for her. She had a loving and supportive home and family. Could I have been there more regularly? Yes, of course. But I was there for all of the important milestones in her life.”

He monitors every tick of her face, sees the genuine certainty of her words. “Why’d you come back now?”

Charlotte sighs, lifts her chin, and says, “I think you know.”

He licks his lips, looks away for a moment. “You knew we were together?”

“I knew the second you stepped into Avengers Tower who you were and what your history was. You think I didn’t try to convince her to leave Stark’s employ and find work elsewhere? I was against her living in such proximity to that rag-tag group in the first place. But when  _you_ arrived…” She laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, I knew exactly where that was headed.”

“ _How?_ ”

“Because. I know my daughter. I know what kind of men she gravitates to. Much as I have always discouraged it, my girl enjoys danger. More, she enjoys  _helping_  those  _in_ danger. As soon as Thor landed in Puente Antiguo, Darcy set herself on a path that I couldn’t change no matter how hard I tried. And I  _did_. When she went to London, I tried to convince her to focus on her studies, return to the States, leave Jane to her search for alien gods and the like. Have a normal, average,  _good_  life. But she wouldn’t be dissuaded. And before I knew it, she was in that dratted Tower. I had some hope left when she showed an interest in Ian, but it was brief, little more than a fling. Then  _you_  came along…” She glares at him. “You two started simple, hm? Friendship. I bet she cooked for you, all of her grandmother’s old recipes. Mathias taught them to her. I was never comfortable in the kitchen.” She drums her manicured nails on the arm of the chair. “Comforted you, encouraged you, built you up so you’d see your own potential again… Darcy does that. She’s a caretaker, always has been. Got her into enough trouble with her previous boyfriends. You can’t  _fix_ people. We are who we are, for better or worse.”

“So they weren’t good enough. Darcy was right. You spooked them.”

She sits forward then, her head tipped, a gratified smile splitting her lips. “Do you know how fragile the male ego is? They prefer to be dominant, are offended so quickly if a woman can outmaneuver, outthink, outfight them… Every man that has ever gotten close to Darcy, I’ve known their history, their habits, their  _everything_. And when confronted with it, they always crumble. There’s always something there, some string you can pull, and the whole tapestry unravels. Their worst mistakes come out of the woodwork and there’s no hiding from it.”

“I’m not hiding from my mistakes,” he tells her. “I know what I did, I’m making up for it.”

“Right, of course. The tried and true best friend of Captain America himself. A poor, average boy, ripped from the womb of war, strapped down and forcibly used to bring about some of the most heinous assassinations of our time. Do you know, they used you, your file, to convince me to join them…? I was young, a freshman in Cambridge, when they approached me. Convinced me that I could do amazing things in this world, that I could stop people like  _you_ from destroying it…” She searches his face thoughtfully. “And you know, I wasn’t sure about it. Wasn’t sure it was something I wanted to do. They offered to pay for my schooling, for everything, but it wasn’t until I was pregnant with Darcy that I knew I had to do it. I had to do whatever it took to make sure my daughter was protected… It’s ironic, isn’t it? That I should create my entire career around a ghost, and here you are…”

“I didn’t have a  _choice_ —”

“Sure, I haven’t heard that one before. More than thirty years I’ve been doing this, and you’re the first person to claim there was no other option.” She rolls her eyes.

He grinds his teeth, glowers at her a long moment. “What do you think I am? That I came back, started working with the Avengers, and I’m, what? A sleeper agent? Just waiting for the wrong word and I snap and destroy everything?”

“Wouldn’t put it past HYDRA to do exactly that,” she admits.

“You think I’d hurt Darcy? Hm?” He searches her eyes. “You came back because I bought a ring… You wanted to vet me in person. Files weren’t enough. And if you knew the whole time, then you took a risk, letting her stay in the Tower, letting her get close to me, letting us move in together.”

“I can’t  _control_ what Darcy does, I can only encourage her down different paths. She’s her own person.”

“Right,” he scoffs. “’Cause you’ve never manipulated a situation or a person to make sure it turns out how you want… Four boyfriends before me, you got rid of ‘em quick. But you waited…” His brow furrows. “You waited. Why’d you wait? You have the connections, the intel, if you wanted me gone, you could’ve taken me out, made everyone think it was HYDRA, AIM, any number of enemies… But you didn’t.”

Her mouth pinches and she raises her chin defiantly.

He smiles very slowly, knowingly. “You don’t think I’ll hurt her.”

She cocks the safety off the gun and points it at him, hand resting calmly on the arm of the chair. “I know very well you won’t.”

“So what? You kill me. How do you explain it to her? I went into a rage, I flipped the switch, we were attacked by unknowns… What’s the story?”

“Outside enemy. Can’t have her wondering how her mother knows how to handle a gun. She’d never believe I got the drop on you unless I were trained.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you let her get close, why you waited over a year to meet me… Lot can happen in a year. Lot of different ways she could’ve been hurt… killed… By me, by my enemies, by  _yours_.” He sits forward, watches as a muscle ticks in her cheek, and he rests his arms on his knees, his hands clasped together loosely. There’s a gun strapped to the underside of the coffee table, loaded and waiting. “See, I don’t think you got too busy. I think you believed she was safe with me… I think you know how I feel about her.”

“Yes, well, she’s loveable. You’d be an idiot not to. Doesn’t change the fact that you are still a danger to her. Your life, your friends…” She purses her lips. “I don’t want to hurt her, of course I don’t. But if you die, the chances of her finally leaving this life, are much higher than they’ve ever been. She couldn’t go back to that Tower, interact with those people, and not think of you. It’s simple, really. One piece of a puzzle can lend so much to the overall picture. Remove you, and the picture itself changes. She can finish her PhD, take what she knows, get a job elsewhere. Her education, a personal recommendation from Pepper Potts herself, and Darcy can virtually write a ticket to anywhere she wants to go. And after the mess of this adventure, I expect that need for danger might have just filled its life-long quota.”

“It’s an interesting plan. Good, even,” he admits. “But you’re missing a few pieces.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He stands in a flash, the table flying up and onto its top, and by the time she’s on her feet, he has a gun pointed right back at her. “I survived seventy years with HYDRA, got a whole new life, started from scratch and clawed my way to something good. Born in the womb of war, that’s what you said, right? Well, I grew up, and war has a way of molding a man. You either die in the trenches or you fight your way out. I fought. And I’ll keep fighting.” He shakes his head. “I love Darcy. I’m not walkin’ from her. She’s her own person, just like you said. She chose this life, she  _wants_ it, so I won’t stand in the way of her havin’ it. Does that work out for me better than you? Yeah, it does. Can’t complain about that. But if you think I’m gonna let you scare me off, or kill me, you’re dead wrong.”

“So what? You kill me then? Hm? How will you explain  _that_ to my daughter? ‘Sorry, Darcy, killed your mum because she was  _worried_ about you and didn’t think I could keep you safe. By the by, she’s also an international spy, has been since before you were born, here’s a large file destroying everything you know about her.’ Clearly, that will go over famously.” Her nose wrinkles with disdain. “She’ll blame you for it. It won’t matter how big that diamond is, she won’t be able to look at you without thinking of me. So, in that way, I suppose I’d still win, wouldn’t I?”

Bucky licks his lips and inhales sharply.

Charlotte grins, looking so much like her daughter then that he nearly flinches. “You know, her first boyfriend that I met, Hamilton, he was running a gambling ring on campus, at Harvard. Oh, it was a terrible little thing. He was barely making any money, he hardly had an idea of what he was doing. But all it took was a reminder that I was a Harvard alum, that I frequently and generously donate to the school, and that, should I mention something to the Dean, he would be kicked out unceremoniously… He broke up with Darcy four days later. He was easy.”

Bucky’s brow furrows at the information.

“Her sophomore year she was dating a senior, Bartholomew. Oh, he preferred people called him ‘Barty,’ but I couldn’t stand it. He had a nickname, Barty the Party. What a trainwreck he was.” She clucks her tongue. “ _He_ was selling drugs, and not just casually, either. No, he’d started up a whole business. I suppose I should congratulate her for always finding such…  _innovative_  boyfriends. Unfortunately for Barty, the party ended with a search and seizure, just two weeks after we’d met. I visited him in lock-up, poor boy was so confused. When I told him I was good friends with the DA, you should have seen the hope in his eyes… It died quickly when I told him I would have him charged with trafficking. Was even able to link it to a much larger drug ring.” She pouts her lips comically. “Poor Barty, he never would’ve gotten out of prison if I’d had my say… Of course, he and Darcy parted ways soon after and he was given a smaller sentence for helping to take down the others in connection to the ring.”

“So they were scumbags, can’t say I regret you got rid of ‘em.”

“Her third was Nathanial. By all accounts, a good, smart, friendly man. Which was probably what his wife thought of him too, and their two children. The wife he never mentioned to Darcy, just like he didn’t mention it to his two  _other_  girlfriends, Olivia and Marisol. A serial cheater. A different kind of scum, I suppose. I have nothing against open relationships. They’ve worked fine for me in the past. But not telling your significant others…” She tisks. “Not conducive to a lasting relationship. Thankfully, his wife agreed, and Nathaniel quickly ended his relationships with all three women, and then spent the subsequent few years in a divorce battle where he realized the prenup his wife had smartly had him sign promised that he wasn’t getting a cent from her.”

“Starting to question Darcy’s choice in boyfriends,” he mutters.

“Well, if you look at the stark facts, you were an assassin for a shadow agency with ties to the Nazis that killed more than a dozen people and trained young children to follow in your footsteps…”

“Right, but against my will and not while I was with her.”

“I wouldn’t call your current job glamorous. You still operate as a spy for an alphabet agency.”

“Not sure you can talk… CIA, INTERPOL, you’re not exactly clean here.” He raises an eyebrow. “You ever wonder if you’re the  _reason_ she’s attracted to danger? Subconsciously trying to get into your world somehow.”

Her lips purse. “Even if that’s true, as I said,  _you_  will put an end to that.”

“Why? She’s been safe this long, she’s surrounded by some of the strongest people on the planet, all of whom love her and would do anything to protect her… You called ‘em a rag-tag bunch, but I think you liked it. You liked knowing that even if you weren’t there, she had a whole team looking out for her. And when she went home at night, she had me.”

“She’s perfectly capable of taking of herself.”

“And yet here you are, and there you were, removing anybody you considered a threat.”

“It’s my job,” she replies through clenched teeth. “I’m her  _mother_.”

He shrugs. “And I’ll be her husband.”

She takes a deep breath, tips her head, and glares at him, even as her lips raise in a vague smile. “You really, truly believe that, don’t you?”

“Just because you wanna add me to the list of assholes that didn’t deserve Darcy doesn’t mean I’ll let you. I knew when I met her that she was gonna change my life for the better. And yeah, she helped me through some stuff, held my hand on the worst nights, made me hot cocoa and bundled me in a blanket, and sat up ‘til 4 am watching shitty TV so I wouldn’t feel alone. She didn’t try to fix me, she just stuck around while I fixed myself. I had things I needed to work through. Had to put myself back together. She wasn’t the only one there, but she was the only one I fell in love with. You think I didn’t try to stay away from her? Tell her and myself that I was no good for her.” He shakes his head. “She knows the risks. She takes ‘em every day. And every day, she makes the same choice. To help in the labs, work at the Tower, befriend that rag-tag group of jerks, and to love me. I’m not goin’ anywhere, not unless she wants me to.”

Charlotte takes a deep breath, purses her lips, and then very calmly, she lets her gun fall to her side. “Yes, I expected you’d say something like that.”

He eyes her a moment longer, his brow raised. “That’s it? I passed your tests?”

“No, of course not. I’ll be watching you and testing you probably for the rest of my life. But you’ve passed  _this_ test. The ‘will he run when faced with a particularly difficult decision to make… him or her’ test. No one’s passed it. Her fourth boyfriend, Jeremiah, he came quite close, I had some hope for him. He was one of the few boyfriends who wasn’t cheating or involved in anything illegal. In fact, he was nice, very handsome, charming, did well in school… But very  _goal_ oriented. Had big ideas about what he wanted for a career. Had aspirations to become some big name and, you know, eventually become president of the United States or some drivel. The point is, I made mention to him that I had connections and, if he liked, I could make sure his career got the boost he wanted. Just one catch, he and Darcy couldn’t stay together. I always wonder if he stuck around because he thought maybe I was attempting to trick him, and that if he stayed, I’d still help him move up. So I gave it some time, thought I’d see what he did. He lasted a few months, but eventually caved, called to ask me if the offer was still good. I said yes and he broke up with her immediately.”

His mouth twists in a grimace. “You help him get a job?”

“Mmhmm, he started off with a cushy job with a state senator. When I was sure Darcy wouldn’t take him back I had him moved to a less cushy job where he’d have to wear thermal underwear every day of the year. He can still move up in the world of politics, of course, he’ll just have to put in a little extra work to make it happen.”

He snorts, drops his own gun to his side and flexes his fingers on it as he watches her. “You know you’re gonna have to tell her eventually, right?”

“About her previous boyfriends or that I’m an accomplished spy?”

“I was thinkin’ the spy thing, but full honesty wouldn’t hurt.”

“Is that what you are with her? Completely honest.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “She doesn’t shy away from that stuff, the gory details of things… Took me a while to get used to talking about it, but… She’s a good listener.”

“Yes, she is.” She bumps her gun against her leg. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she admits. “Wasn’t expecting a situation where I might actually have to sit down and tell her about the last thirty years… I’ve managed this long, the idea of telling her just became so… absurd. So hard to believe. But then she joined this world, she befriended these ridiculous people, and suddenly… I wasn’t the most unbelievable part of her life, whether she knew it or not.”

“She’s pretty fond of spies, two of her best friends do what you do.”

“Barton and Romanoff… Yes, I’ve done extensive research on both.”

“Anybody you haven’t done research on?”

She laughs, grinning lightly. “ _No_.”

He smiles, nodding. “Me either.”

“And yet you waited, to look me up… What was it that gave me away?”

“Certain bearing people have, it’s hard to miss. But I wasn’t completely sure until you mentioned the post-war pictures at the Milan exhibit.”

“Ahh…” She smiles to herself. “And what do you think you were going to do when you did find out?”

He shrugs. “Confront you. Make sure you had no ties to HYDRA… Tell you to tell Darcy.”

“Easier said than done. Thirty years is a lot to cover in one night.”

“Start with basics, see what she  _wants_ to hear, let her come to you when she’s ready for more.”

She nods, biting her lip a moment. “And you won’t be convinced to keep this between us?”

“No,” he says seriously. “Haven’t lied to her yet, not gonna start now.”

“Suppose I should approve of that… Since you’ll be my son in law.”

“If she says yes.”

Charlotte lets out a scoffing laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s besotted with you.”

He frowns skeptically. “She never even mentioned me to you.”

“Well that’s the point, isn’t it? The last four men she was with I scared off, she wasn’t willing for you to be the fifth. She wanted to  _keep_ you, and it was only when she was sure you wouldn’t run like the others that she introduced us. She could’ve just as easily put me up in a hotel, taken me out for dinner, never mentioned it to you. Or made an excuse that we couldn’t see each other. But she didn’t. She let us meet, even left us  _alone_  while she worked… So some part of her knew. Some part of her trusted you’d stay.”

He swallows at that, feels his heart thud hard in his chest. “Good.”

“Yes, well—”

There’s a noise at the door then, and they both turn abruptly. As it swings open to reveal Darcy, their arms quickly tuck behind their backs, hiding their guns.

“Darling!” Charlotte exclaims cheerfully. “James was just telling me you weren’t due back until six.”

She looks between them, frowning. “Jane finished up her fight with genius early…” She steps further into the apartment and draws her bag off her shoulder. “Why is the table tipped over and…? Are you guys holding  _guns?_ ”

“Oh, well, you see…” Charlotte trails off and then turns a look toward him, her brows hiked.

He shrugs at her, letting his gun fall to his side, and flips the safety back on. “It’s a long story,” he says, walking toward her to drop a kiss atop her head.

Darcy is unconvinced. “How long could it possibly be?”

Charlotte sighs. “Well, it started back in 1981…”

She blinks, and then raises a wary eyebrow. “This isn’t going to turn into some creepy Jerry Springer episode where you two met and hooked up in the 80’s when you were still hijacked by HYDRA, is it…?”

Bucky chokes on air. “What?  _No_.”

She looks between them suspiciously. “She was a babe, so I wouldn’t blame you, but if there’s some kind of incest thing I need to know about…”

“Jesus Christ, Darcy.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What? You’re still getting some of your memories back. What else am I supposed to expect when I come home and you two are playing Russian Roulette!?”

Charlotte taps her fingers over her chin. “Your mind always worked in the most fascinating ways,” she muses. “But no, I didn’t have an affair with your boyfriend.”

“Oh. Well, good. Okay, so, the gunplay was because…?”

“Because your mother is extremely protective and intense,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I don’t remember guns in the other four meet-and-greets. So?” She turns to her mother. “Explanation, please?”

Charlotte draws a breath and then lets it out in a huff. “I was an international spy for INTERPOL and the CIA… Actually, I still am. Though I have been considering retirement. Cynthia is getting tired of all the traveling and drama and the like.” She waves a dismissive hand. “She wants to get a dog, which is just not at  _all_  conducive to our current lifestyle, so something has to change…”

Darcy stares at her a long, drawn out moment, and then blinks. “I’m sorry. You  _what?_ ”  

“All those trips, the business trips, I wasn’t selling art like I said. I’ve been… well, gathering intelligence for the safety and protection of the world.”

“The…  _world_.” Darcy shakes her head. “But you… You’re normal. I mean, sure, you traveled a lot. But you’re not shady like, at all. And you hate weapons. You refused to let me have anything more deadly than a taser. When I wanted to join karate in sixth grade, you said you didn’t want me to hurt myself.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“But you’re a  _spy!_  Which means you’re trained. I… You know how to use a  _gun!_ ”

“Yes, there has been extensive training over the years… Just because I’m well versed in combat doesn’t mean I’m not a mother who worries her very fragile child might get hurt.”

“I was not  _fragile_ , I was a normal kid. Or maybe not so normal since I had a freaking  _spy_ for a mom!”

“I don’t know what the big deal is, you’re willingly dating an ex-assassin and you’re friends with spies and superheroes.”

“Yeah, well, I  _knew_ about that when I met them. I didn’t spend thirty years thinking they were just really super into old art junk.” She points at her, eyes wide. “Oh my God, did you miss my tenth birthday because you were out espionaging?”

“Oh Darcy, please. I missed my  _flight_ , and you told me you forgave me for that. One birthday out of all the others.”

“Hey, excuse me for questioning my entire childhood when you just dropped a giant truth bomb on my head.”

Bucky wanders back to the living room to right the coffee table and re-strap his gun to the bottom before he motions over his shoulder. “I’ll just go hang in the bedroom ‘til you two are done talking.”

“No, you stop right there,” Darcy says, pointing at him. “How long did you know?”

He sighs, hands on his hips. “This afternoon, after you left. I asked Natasha to look into her.”

“Okay, then what led to the guns? You confronted her? What?”

“She found me reading through what Tasha found, we sat down to talk about it, things got a little… awkward.”

Charlotte shrugs as she admits, “I threatened to kill him so he would stay away from you.”

“Oh my  _God_!  _Mom!?_ Are you serious?” Darcy stomps a foot, waving her hands around incredulously.

“Well, there are only so many ways to threaten a man with his history. I was merely testing his dedication to the relationship.”

“There’s gotta be a better way than suggesting  _murder_.” Darcy rubs a hand over her head. “I’m surrounded by insane people. How is this my life?”

Bucky grins. “Just luck, I guess.”

Darcy glares at him and he waves his hands in surrender.

“Is this what you did to my other boyfriends?”

“Oh, hardly. I might’ve suggested jail time or expulsion or outed them to their wives or said that I’d help them climb the political ladder, but I never threatened their  _lives_ , per se.”

Darcy gapes at her mother, who shrugs vaguely.

“I was doing what I felt was best at the time. Mother’s intuition, honey, those boys weren’t worth your time.”

“Well, judging by the gun, apparently neither is Bucky.”

“Oh no, we’ve sorted that. To be honest, he might be my favorite so far.” She offers a smirk in Bucky’s direction. “You know, I met my wife on the job. She’s the reason I joined the CIA and left INTERPOL.”

“Cyn is a spy too! What the  _hell!?_ ” Darcy shakes her head and then thrusts her fingers back through her hair. She chews her lip a moment and then nods. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to have a shower to wash all this science off and change into something nice. Then we’re all going to sit down and talk about the last thirty years of subterfuge. And we are  _still_ going to make our 8 o’clock dinner reservation because I deserve some awesome food after all this. Deal?” She looks between them expectantly.

Bucky nods, and Charlotte follows.

“Great.” She starts toward the mouth of the hallway and then glares between them. “No slinking out to avoid interrogation.”

Charlotte smiles indulgently. “You have my word.”

Still a little skeptical, Darcy slowly turns and continues down the hall.

As the bathroom door snaps closed behind her, Charlotte turns to Bucky, her brows hiked. “Well, I rather think that went better than expected.”

He snorts. “You say so.”

“I do.” She nods, and walks around to retake her seat on the armchair. “We’ll have a nice chat and dinner and, worse comes to worst, you can distract her by proposing.” She waves dismissively. “I hardly think it’ll come to that though. It’d be much more romantic if you two take that vacation we were talking about. Milan really is quite beautiful. You’d love the museums and the architecture and culture. It’s gorgeous. Perfect place to propose.”

Bucky grins to himself, shaking his head as he sits down on the couch. Wasn’t so long ago, she had a gun trained on him and was promising a swift death if he didn’t stay away from her daughter. Something he said really must’ve hit home if she was supporting their marriage now. Truth be told, maybe things had gone better than expected. Charlotte approved, he had an engagement ring in his sock drawer, Darcy was overwhelmed but willing to deal with it, and his life looked like it was going to be interesting, if nothing else.

“Before I forget, may I ask where you got your gun?” Charlotte wonders. “It’s a magnificent piece. I had one in the nineties but I lost it during a raid in Prague. Terrible mission; anything that could go wrong,  _did_. I was convinced it was my partner’s fault; a magnet for trouble, that one. Oh, she was always running headfirst into danger. I can’t count how many times I had to pull her arse out of the fire. Loyal though, terribly so. Despite the mess of it all, I think she was my favorite.” She laughs. “The stories I could tell you, though…”

Bucky grins, reaches under the table to retrieve his gun, and thinks he and his future mother-in-law are going to get along great. 


End file.
